“Me?” asked Rhodes, then shook his head. “I’ve only just arrived. He was, uh, entertaining.” The young Marliir pointed his chin at the open doorway. Beyond, the dusky-hued girl was watching everything with staring eyes.
“The only witness?” asked the wizard.
“There was another young lady,” said Rhodes. “She left suddenly.”
Jorunhast cursed again and looked hard at the noble. “And you were here with the girls?”
Rhodes straightened his shoulders and looked the wizard in the eye. “I am no panderer, mage. I am of the blood of House Marliir-one of the last, thanks to this man.”
“So you came here, poisoned blade in your sheath, seeking revenge,” said the wizard.
“I came seeking justice,” said Rhodes. “I regret that I was too late to mete it out.”
“Justice!” the old mage spat the word like a curse. “Is that what they call unthinking bloodlust these days?”
Rhodes Marliir’s eyes narrowed. “And how did you know where to find him?”
Jorunhast held up a hand. “I came bearing sad news. Her Highness Queen Jhalass has perished, apparently in an allergic reaction to some fish served at dinner. Like Dhalmass, no amount of herbcraft or priests’ magic could save her. Both of the rulers of Cormyr have perished within hours of each other. I fear for your city, Marliir.”
The news amazed Rhodes. It was as if the gods themselves were saying, in their unsubtle way, that conquering Marsember was not the wisest of moves for the Cormyrean crown. He forgot that Jorunhast had not exactly answered his question.
Then the mage’s last comment registered, and Rhodes asked sharply, “You fear for my city, mage?”
“Aye,” said the Royal Magician, his face a mask of concern. “Once word gets out that both king and queen died in Marsember, regardless of how, there will be a gnashing of teeth and a seeking of revenge. Or, as you would call it, ‘justice.’ Seven companies of Purple Dragons walk-and drink deeply-in this city right now. Tell them their king, their warrior king, is dead, and his queen alongside him. Can you imagine the carnage and rioting that will ensue?”
For the first time, Rhodes really thought about it. “They’ll destroy the city,” he said quietly, seeing in his mind islands that were only ashes, houses put to the torch, the bridges broken, the vultures swooping down…
“Marsember would be abandoned once more,” the Royal Magician intoned, “and its abandonment would not be peaceful. It is well that you had no hand in his death, for revenge would be swift and hard, and no mage or warrior or pirate could shield you.”
He looked down at the spread-eagled corpse on the bed again and sighed. “Even now, I fear Marsember will be devastated by these deaths. And some of the same conspiring merchants who opened the gates to us have crept away during this last tenday. They might well return after the fury has abated and the city has been torn apart and try to establish their own kingdom. Then Cormyr would return. Death upon death, year after year. Feuds that die not, and children who do. Sometimes the gods play savage jests on us all.”
Rhodes Marliir stared at the wizard, realizing the man was truly sad at the thought of Marsember’s fate.
He felt tears rising in his throat, and at the same time a curious thankfulness. He’d never stood thinking beyond his own pride before-thinking down the generations and ages, of the fates of realms and cities and peoples. No wonder folk thought wizards strange.
Rhodes thought of the many islands of the city that was his home, the rat warrens of twisted streets and ancient, decaying buildings. The sagging wharves and inns and taverns and festhalls. All gone in a passion as hot and burning as his own hatred of the king. Marsember, swept away…
“What if he did not die here?” Marliir asked suddenly. “What if you teleported him back by magic, to lie beside the queen, and men thought they died together in their sleep?”
The Royal Magician shook his head. ‘They would still both have died in Marsember, and enough people heard Queen Jhalass complain of the food that the assumption would be that they were poisoned by rebel Marsembians. The fire and rampage would follow, inescapably.”
Rhodes sighed in sudden despair. “Then my city is doomed. I wish I’d slain him myself! Then I’d be the only one held responsible, and not all the people of Marsember.”
“A noble thought. Yet dark times will come indeed,” said the mage, “unless…”
“Unless?” echoed Rhodes.
The Royal Magician of Cormyr drew himself up and asked formally, “Rhodes Marliir, will you pledge your loyalty to the crown of Cormyr, which will now pass to Palaghard, son of Dhalmass?”
The young noble looked at the mage, dumbfounded. Had the man not heard him confess his desire to kill the king?
“Knowing,” the wizard continued, “that in doing so, you’d save Marsember from much rioting and ruin and gain a full noble title and rewards for you and your surviving house?”
“I suppose…” Rhodes shrugged, and then their eyes met. He sighed again, drew himself up, and picked up Jorunhast’s book from the cold forehead of the corpse.
The wizard made a sudden movement and then froze. The Marsemban nobleman handed him his book, looked into the eyes of the mage, and said firmly, “To save Marsember from seven companies of drunken, enraged Purple Dragons, I will so swear. I do so swear-if you will protect this city.”
Jorunhast nodded. “Done… I hope.”
Rhodes raised an eyebrow, and the wizard started to pace the room. “Dhalmass was a great war leader, but only a fair-to-middling ruler. He was too much the slave to a lust for battle, as well as for… other, more earthy lusts. By rights, he should have died in battle. We can ensure that if you’re willing to assist me.”
“Willing in what way?” Rhodes asked, eyes narrowing. “His Majesty must be seen leaving this place and returning to his quarters, where be will sleep undisturbed through the night,” said the wizard. “I will teleport back to Marliir House with the body and store it, say within the royal carriage that brought the queen here. We load Queen Jhalass similarly. In the morning, the king will be called back to Suzail. He will go by carriage to be with his queen, and will not take escorts on this safe trip through known country. Regrettably they are ambushed on the coast trail by known rogues and brigands. How do you feel about the Fire Knives?”
“Marsember has no love of the Fire Knives thieves’ guild,” Rhodes replied stiffly.
“Then the Fire Knives it is,” the wizard said with a grim smile. “The king dies protecting his queen and passes into history as warrior king rather than libertine. And it all happens far from the walls of Marsember, which allows this fair city to drift easily into the arms of Cormyr without further bloodshed.”
Rhodes was silent in response. The plan had more bizarre angles-and perilous steps-than the trader’s market in Marsember. Nevertheless, if all went well, it would work.
He asked, “You want me to impersonate the king? Aren’t there laws against such a thing?”
“If caught,” the wizard said with a shrug. “And, Rhodes Marliir, I pledge to you my aid in getting you out if you are. Unless someone has the unusual presence of mind to check once and again to see that their drunken monarch truly is their drunken monarch, no one will know. Indeed, if there is any doubt, they’ll likely summon me to determine your identity.”
Rhodes smiled grimly. “And in return I get my noble house in Marsember?”
“You get your noble rank,” said Jorunhast, “but too many questions will be asked if it is in Marsember.”
“I don’t want to be a petty lord of some sheep path,” Rhodes said grimly, folding his arms.
“What about Arabel, then?” suggested the wizard. “A large city with a number of local nobility, far from the easy reach of the throne.”
“Arabel would be suitable,” agreed Rhodes.
“And it revolts against the crown every hundred years or so. You’ll fit right in.” The wizard smiled again. “Moreover, I can see my way clear to losing enough gold from the royal treasury that-when you’re as old and as fat as I and have sons of your own, mind-you can buy any islands you want in Marsember again. But you must give me your most solemn oath that you’ll never speak of this to anyone. Not a wife, not an heir, not a crony!”